Autumn Fallin'
by RainingMonday
Summary: “Seattle was supposed to be her winter, but as it turns out, it was only autumn.” Derek and Addison assess the different seasons of their lives and come to realize that their paths are meant to collide more than once for a reason. One-shot.


**.: Autumn Fallin' :.**

**I don't know. This is by insomniac Kayde at three in the morning as opposed of bored Kayde in the middle of the day. My muse is odd, what can I say? Sometimes she hides in dark corners, other times she won't shut up. Her name is Cassiopeia, but that's beside the point. Title is from the song Autumn Fallin' by Jaymay.**

* * *

**September 29****th****, 2009 4:52 pm  
****Seattle Grace Hospital NICU**

Seattle was supposed to be her winter, but as it turns out, it was only autumn. Los Angeles is her winter. Frozen. Unfeeling. Lifeless. She dances through a life devoid of spark and color, doling out empty smiles to desperate patients and arranging her shivering limbs appropriately in the relentless sun. She thought that surrounding herself by light and laughter and joy would warm her heart, melt the frozen mess left by her ex-husband and various other lovers, but happiness by diffusion does not work as well as science might suggest.

No, Seattle was the falling of leaves of her last drops of sanity and hope, the turning of her life from the healthy green of youth to jaded golden-orange of middle age. Seattle hinted at the frozen wasteland her life would become, but at least, while in the rainy Pacific city, she still had a modicum of feeling. This was proved by the slow removing of rusty nails as Derek pulled even further away from her. It was hard to let him go but harder to keep him.

She should have known, when she returned to Seattle three times in one year after moving there. One was for a prestigious case, the next for her wayward brother, but this time, the third time, well, there are no excuses, because truth be told little Darren Crossgrove doesn't _need _her specifically, no matter how good she is.

"Addison?"

She turns, baby cradled in scrub covered arms, to find the very source of her agony standing in the doorway, head cocked to the side in surprise. "Hello, Derek."

There are no pretenses, no expectations, no grudges to mar this reunion. There's just her and him, just a man and a woman for the first time in forever.

"What -"

"Umbilical hernia."

"How f-"

"More than two inches."

"Why –"

"Symptoms of obstruction. Vomiting, fever."

"Oh," is all Derek says. He doesn't ask why it has to be her, or what she's doing here, like others inevitably will. Instead, he strides forward confidently, just a touch of uncertainty present in his step. His hand caresses the flawless, petal-smooth skin of Darren's stomach, skating over the tiny bulge of his hernia. Their eyes meet over the innocent being between them, and neither is sure what they are experiencing. Addison later concludes that it is the first hint of spring.

"When -"

"Six o'clock."

"Right, well … good luck. It was nice seeing you, Addison." And with one last look at a dream gone sour, Derek turns and leaves, a tentative smile on his face.

"Well, that was interesting," Addison tells Darren before placing him back in his incubator. "Let's get you prepped for surgery, mister."

**December 14****th****, 2009 1:01 pm  
****Seattle Grace Hospital cafeteria**

Winter isn't cold because of the weather, Derek decides. Seattle is blanketed in very rare white fluff, but he doesn't mind, despite the fact that the hallways are filled with complaints and the rooms with eighty-somethings needing hip replacements. No, this type of winter, with Christmas decorations and cider at Joe's isn't cold.

True winter is when your heart is too frozen to feel, when the land has shed not leaves but all earthly joys, at least in the individual's eyes. He doesn't know what he's living for anymore until he sees a flash of autumn.

He can't explain the feelings that bloom at the sight of Addison sipping coffee at a table across the cafeteria, her Armani silk wrap skirt revealing legs too tan for December and her long, filmy cashmere sweater showcasing her curves perfectly. Her finger travels the circumference of the cup, but the green-blue eyes are focused far away, and he can't help regretting the loss of understanding between them that was the key to her thoughts.

Derek doesn't know what prompts him to approach, besides the fact that the things he doesn't have the right to know anymore are the things that suddenly matter most. Addison has a file open in front of her, but she is so immersed in her musings that she doesn't notice him draw near. "Is this seat empty?" he asks before he can think better of it.

She looks up, obviously startled, which may be the reason for her dry retort. "Yes, and _this_ one will be too if you sit down."

"Oooh, wit."

"Yes, I'm surprised you recognize it."

"Ouch. Who'd you kill?"

"Nobody yet," she sighs, shuffling the papers in front of her.

He winces in sympathy, recognizing the symptoms of an impossible case, but doesn't offer the pity he knows will be unwelcome.

"It's Christmas. Their baby's going to die, and it's Christmas. Not that they deserve her, after the hell she's been put through, but -" The quaver in Addison's voice becomes more pronounced as she speaks until she looks away from him entirely, out at the rest of the active hospital. Derek gives her a minute to regain her composure. Babies are always the hardest.

"Her name's Mimi. She's addicted to heroin. She's two pounds, one ounce, Derek, and already experiencing convulsions, sleep abnormalities, fever, diarrhea and joint stiffness. She's bleeding in her head and I just don't see any way she'll survive the surgery."

"I'm sorry." Taking her hand is the natural thing to do, and when his fingertips brush her knuckles, she doesn't pull away. Instead, she reaches forward to snag his jello off his tray, popping it open and consuming a spoonful before he can blink.

"Hey!"

"You hate jello," she points out.

"Well, I … I don't usually eat it, I just get it to … remember."

"Oh. Right," she says uncomfortably, unable to dispel the awkwardness that has stolen over them. Derek withdraws his hand, because society's subtle little clues indicate that he shouldn't be touching his ex-wife anymore. Addison's hands flutter, as if his missing touch has left her flustered, and she grabs her coffee, seemingly to have something to do.

"So … how's Meredith?" He can tell she regrets the words the instant they leave her lips, but there's not much she can do to take them back, and besides, he can also tell she's curious.

"Meredith is … fine," Derek says, not having any real way to explain the confusing muddle that is their relationship. "We got married. On post-its. We handwrote three vows on a piece of paper and put it in her locker," he admits when Addison raises an eyebrow.

"No fuss the second time around, huh?" she smirks.

"What about you? Are you seeing anyone?" he asks hurriedly before her teasing turns hardcore.

"No. There was this quack, sort of, and then this cop, and then this heart surgeon, almost … I don't know."

"Are you trying to tell me you are almost dating or sort-of having sex?" he jokes lightly. They are taking what would and could have been a lighthearted conversation, were they anyone else, and turning it into a nostalgic fest of half-buried memories and banter is the only way to hide the pain.

"Very funny, Dr. Shepherd. I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you," she sighs.

And together they find spring right smack dab in the middle of winter.

**January 26****th****, 2010 11:34 pm  
****Emerald City bar**

The day he realizes Joe's bar is a refuge is the day he accepts he might have a problem, although what he is attempting to escape from is unclear to him. But when he steps into the bar that night, finding it overcrowded but not occupied by many fellow doctors, he finds the reason could be explained by the waterfall of now-familiar crimson hair.

"Back again?" Why does approaching her feel covert, wrong, like he is taking a hit of a drug he knows is forbidden?

Her answer is a wordless shrug, but she removes her purse from the stool beside her and he interprets it as an invitation and sits down. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Apparently."

"Smooth," he chuckles. "Can I ask you another question?"

"Obviously."

"Real cute, Addison. I just want to know … since you're here so much, why don't you just move back? Clearly you're not getting enough surgery in LA, and I know I'd … everyone'd like to have you back."

"I already moved here once on your request, Derek, and look how well that turned out!" Her voice is frigid, tasting of deep winter, and shards of guilt pierce him for his ineloquence, and he knows he's gone too far. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her pain. She stands, throwing him a scathing look, but before she can go far his hand finds her silk-swathed arm and pins her up against the bar.

Anyone watching them would think the Shepherds – former Shepherds – do not know the meaning of willpower or decency. Derek's body crushes Addison as their lips merge in the smoky corner of the bar, trading alcohol-scented breath and passion they both haven't forgotten how to feel. It is over nearly as quickly as it started, with Addison pulling away so suddenly she bites her tongue and Derek's shaking hands barely supporting him against the bar. He only obtains a brief last glimpse of red locks as the door slams shut to carrying him through the intervening months of winter.

'Nother scotch, Dr. Shepherd?" Joe asks, and Derek proffers his glass resignedly.

He doesn't know she huddles against the window of the plane, tears creating diamond tracks down the smooth glass as more time and space grow between them. She doesn't know that he drinks until he's regurgitating memories of med school and the food he ate that day at the same pace, and that he doesn't remember Mark and Alex towing him out of the bar but does remember a harrowing hangover the next morning.

**June 6****th****, 2010 9:18 am  
****Room 614: Kate Carr **

Four months of winter later (Naomi asks her why she's shivering in May) Richard lures her with the promise of an insurmountable case, dangling the bait right out in front of her surgery-deprived, blue-lipped self. It's a baby. Spina bifida. Know what that means? Derek.

Still, a baby shouldn't have to suffer someone else's inadequacies because she is afraid of her ex-husband, so she boards yet another plane to Seattle, the cloud formations that rush by her window quite routine now. She has barely three hours to gather herself and instead spends them drinking cup after cup of complimentary orange juice so she doesn't attempt to drunkenly kiss Derek again. _Meredith. He's with Meredith._

"Addison!" Derek exclaims when she enters the room in a tangle of nervous expectation for how she will be received. The mother, Kate, beams at her, one hand caressing the belly where the baby that requires her salvation lays. The father looks equally relieved to see her; Derek must have expressed his uncertainty about her showing up.

She stands there awkwardly; hands fiddling with the pockets of her lab coat until Derek hurries over and envelops her in a hug. Her breath catches, and she surreptitiously examines his fingers for the presence of vows in golden rings. There are none. She can't help feeling that her endless winter is finally thawing for good.

"Great to see you," he whispers as he pulls away and they remember that they have patients to attend to. "Mr. and Mrs. Carr, this is Dr. Addison Montgomery, the neonatal surgeon I told you about."

"Thank you so much for coming," Kate Carr says fervently as she takes Addison's hand in hers. "I can't tell you how much this means to me – to us."

"It's no problem," Addison promises as she greets the father, Jeremy. "Let's take a look at your baby, shall we?"

Derek hovers behind her as she moves the ultrasound expertly around Kate's stomach until she finds the 37-week-old little boy. She maneuvers it so Derek gets a good a view as possible of the baby's spine, and when she looks back at him, he winks.

"Well?" Kate asks anxiously after about ten minutes. Her husband's hand locates hers, slipping his fingers in comfortingly, and Addison's hand shakes, remembering when Derek used to do just that.

"Well, Dr. Shepherd has already explained to you, your baby has spina bifida -" Addison begins.

"- which is a birth defect caused by the incomplete closing of the embryonic neural tube -" Derek continues.

"- and some of the vertebrae, the bones in your baby's back, are not fully formed, which means part of the spinal cord could be sticking out. We could use open fetal surgery to correct it –"

" – but we think it's safer to deliver the baby and then do the operation. He's big and his lungs are fully formed. Dr. Montgomery will deliver the baby via c-section -"

" – and then Dr. Shepherd will operate to put the spinal cord and nerve roots back in the baby's back and then close the opening."

"The baby will have to have regular check-ups to monitor his growth and will probably have to use crutches, braces, or a wheelchair; it depends on the level of paralysis. It is possible that eventually none will be needed at all." Derek finishes off their dialogue with an encouraging smile and Addison finds herself encouraged despite herself and despite the fact that it's not her baby.

"Wow," Kate says, and she assumes it's in response to their explanation of treatment, but she continues, "You two talk like you're married or something. Are you sure you live in California, Dr. Montgomery?"

"Quite sure," Addison asserts with what she hopes is a relaxed smile.

Derek blows it the next second by blurting, "We used to be married. For eleven years, actually. Then we got a divorce."

"Dr. Shepherd," Addison hisses. "Can I talk to you _outside _for a moment please?" Once they are out of earshot of the Carrs, Addison smacks his arm.

"Ouch!"

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Whatever prevailed upon you to tell him that we're married!? No, not even married, used to be married!" she shouts, unable to restrain herself any longer. She's mad at him for kissing her, mad at him for making her feel again, mad at him for stating so indifferently that what they'd once had was over.

"I don't _know_, Addison. I didn't know you had a problem with it!" he snaps back, incensed.

"Well, you don't need to tell every patient that waltzes in about our personal history!"

"Fine!" he growls. "Next time you come, how about you bring a _list _of the proper things to do and say to your ex-wife for future reference!"

"You are _such _an ass, Derek Shepherd. Why can't you just … just …" her angry speech turns to stuttering when his mouth shifts too close for comfort, a forbidden kiss hovering on his lips, just begging her to give in and damn the consequences to hell. And she nearly does when his eyes burn into hers with utter focus, switching in an instant from the indigo of anger to the pure crystal blue of something she doesn't want to interpret.

When her conscious brain realizes what he's doing, she huffs and stomps away, leaving him to deal with their patients and whoever else might have seen what almost happened. She doesn't realize until she's halfway down the hallway that the Carr's saw – and heard – the entire episode.

**June 7****th**

"So you kissed him."

"No! That's exactly what I've been trying to tell you! I didn't kiss him!" Addison shrieks at Callie in exasperation, mostly at herself. She receives curious glances from those in the vicinity and resolves to lower her voice, especially since Meredith & Co. are listening.

"But you almost did," Callie corrects with an amused smirk.

"Just because you can kiss your lesbian girlfriend whenever you want doesn't give you license to make fun of me," Addison informs her haughtily. "I am over Derek."

"Except …" Addison frowns as Callie picks up on her wordless contradiction.

"Except I'm freezing, literally freezing, in LA, and then I come here and see him and I'm warm all over. Except when I look at him, I swear to god the sun is shining. Except … except he takes a part of me wherever he goes." Addison pauses. "Crap. I don't think I'm over him. Do you think I'm over him?"

"I think you're mental," Callie argues. "But it's kind of cute."

"Urgh!"

"Don't abuse the table," Callie advises. "You have a hard head. And besides, nobody in this godforsaken hospital even knows what's going on with him and Meredith Grey, despite the fact that they'd pay a month's wages to know. They seem to have been on the outs, though, since … well, honestly, since January."

"Oh."

"You were here in January," Callie realizes. "Addison!" she shouts, but Addison is already power walking away, thinking she might go check on the Carr's. Somebody deserves to be reassured, after all.

That plan is pretty much shot to hell when she discovers Derek is already there. He is speaking softly to Kate and she presumes he is comforting her until she hears her own name.

"So," Kate says. "Now that we've established just about everything we can about my baby, what about you and Dr. Montgomery?"

"We're divorced," Derek states simply, his free hand jerking oddly as he speaks. She frowns, confused, until she notices he is touching the fourth finger on his left hand.

"But you still love her," Kate fills in. Addison forgets how to breathe.

"I don't … sometimes I … yeah, I do. But things are complicated," Derek explains quietly.

"Does she know?" Kate whispers.

"Sometimes I think she does. Sometimes I even think she loves me back. But other times I remember all the stuff that's happened and wonder how she can …"

Addison backs away. That's quite enough for one day. But as she travels through the rest of her day, the colors are as vivid as summer.

**June 8****th**

_Clack. Clack. Clack._ Pause. _Clack. Clack. _Pause.

"For goodness sakes, get your ass in there!" Bailey snaps Addison paces past the door a third time.

"I was reading the chart, Miranda. It's good to be informed about your patient when you're a doctor," Addison says, calm voice not betraying the turmoil inside of her.

"Both of your patients are post-op, and I'm sure you've given McDreamy ample time by now to talk them through any questions they might have."

"Okay, I'm going, I'm going." But her steps contradict her words, carrying her once more past the room that contains Derek. What had he said, about loving her? _"I don't … sometimes I … yeah, I do."_

Bailey crosses her arms imperiously in front of her chest and gives Addison a glowering frown. "Did something happen between you two?"

"No."

"Did you keep your legs closed?"

"_Yes, _and being your superior I don't think you should be asking me that."

"You don't work here anymore."

Addison glares and finally stomps into the room, and Bailey chuckles in triumph and moves on, knowing that if Addison had been left to her own devices it probably would have been lunchtime before she made it in that door.

Addison squeals over little Timothy Carr as he lays in his incubator, accepts the profuse thanks of Kate and Jeremy, and deflects Kate's pointed questions about when she would be back (the woman was clearly some sort of matchmaker, she felt sorry in advance for the teenage Timothy).

Derek's only goodbye is a sad smile. But the flowers of her life are in full bloom for the next month anyway.

**July 12****th****, 2010 2:14 am  
****Archfield Hotel**

The soft knocking on the door of her hotel room pulls her nastily from dreams of freshly cut grass and sun warming the wood porch of the house in the Hamptons. She rolls, accomplishing a cocoon of cotton and flushed skin before dropping unceremoniously onto the floor and staring fuzzily at the TV, which for some unfathomable reason is still on.

For a second she assumes the knocking is on the TV but then realizes there is not much opportunity for knocking on a bus. "Fucking room service," she mutters, heading for the door, not registering that it was closer to dawn than dusk and that she certainly hadn't made any calls in the last four hours. "Why can't they just let me sleep? I need sleep. I _need _it."

She opens the door instead to find a certain soaking wet ex-husband, apologies etched into a face that manages to be amused and pleading at the same time. The trickle of water from the roots of his hair drips onto his bottom lip and she's so busy fantasizing about licking it off that she doesn't immediately register that she's wearing cotton panties and a camisole.

"You're expecting room service at two in the morning?" he asks, eyes dancing wickedly, and she wants to frown and bitch at him for waking her up but the sight of his wet t-shirt clinging to every muscle in his chest is literally mouthwatering. Her body is heating up, sparkling, being exhilarated by this sudden change of seasons and there's nothing she can do about it.

"You visit people's hotel rooms at two in the morning?" she snaps as she turns her back. Derek kicks off his shoes and follows her in, creating a trail of droplets on the plush carpet as he goes.

"Good point. Meredith kicked me out," he admits, sounding far too cheerful about this prospect. "Hey, what movie are you watching?"

"I wasn't watching it. I fell asleep to it. Um … looks like Maid in Manhattan," she says, squinting at the disjointed images on the TV.

"Hmm. I never saw that one," he muses as he runs his hands over the couch, trying to determine whether it is a hide-a-bed or not. Apparently it is not, because he steals one of her pillows, plumps it a few times, and drops his wet jeans onto the floor while she stares incredulously.

"Oh, right," he says. "Can I stay?" His face is such that she can't refuse him.

"Fine. No snoring."

They are silent for a few minutes as Addison curls herself back up in her nest of bedcovers, telling herself that she did _not _just agree to let her ex-husband sleep in her hotel room. The soft sounds of the movie lull her to sleep, at least until Derek starts laughing. "I actually kind of like this movie," he says."

"Go to sleep," she commands.

"Hmm. Grumpy."

"I'm grumpy? What did you do to get kicked out by Meredith?" She figures as long as he's here, she might as well take the plunge and let her hopes live, even if only until dawn's first rays touch the sky.

She can't see his smile, but she can imagine it. "Go to sleep."

"She's here _again_?" Meredith whispers loudly to Cristina as she catches sight of Derek arriving with his ex-wife.

"_That's _a lovely morning greeting," Addison grumbles as she and Derek enter the hospital the next morning. She woke to scrambled eggs, poached eggs, bacon, orange juice, pancakes, French toast, and black beans carried in by a uniformed bellboy, whose teenage hormones most likely got a kick out of her less-than-decent attire. Derek got a kick out of her flushed cheeks and murmured excuses.

He ate while she showered, and then they switched places, and she couldn't help being disturbed at the ease at which they fell back into such a life. Old habits greeted them with friendly hugs and slaps on the back, as if to say, "Where have you been all this time?"

Derek expounds excitedly about some new patient and she waves him off, intending to seek out Richard, who said on the phone he had several patients lined up for her to keep her busy while she's once again visiting Seattle. She wonders if she could stay away if she tried, and then wonders if she actually wants to.

But her leisurely plans are interrupted by an exhausted, annoyed Meredith Grey, who apparently lacks propriety in the earlier hours of the morning. "Are you sleeping with my husband?" she asks bluntly as she approaches. Apparently she doesn't remember that three years ago, they were in opposite places, mirror images of each other, and now they're about to switch for a third and final time.

"He's not your husband," Addison points out, miffed by the question.

"Yes, he is. We got married -"

"Right, by post-its, I forgot. No, I'm not sleeping with your post-it husband," she sighs, the glamour of drama already long worn off for her.

"He's still mine!" Meredith calls to Addison's retreating back.

"I never said he wasn't," she mumbles, but summer has unlocked hopes deep inside her.

**August 31****st****, 2010 8:59 pm  
****MV Skansonia, Lake Union, Washington  
****The second wedding of Richard and Adele Webber**

Her dress is a champagne-colored silk concoction, strapless and gathered in the front at her waist by a jeweled clasp. It's quite possibly the most elegant thing he's ever seen, and it compliments her tanned skin perfectly, picking up the golden rays of the sun and refracting them past their normal trajectories.

He waves but she ignores him haughtily until he has her trapped by the railing of the ferry on which Adele and Richard got remarried. Seattle is just beginning to light up in the background, and the many colored lights illuminate her skin in mystical alluring ways.

"You didn't call," she says softly, turning away and gazing at Seattle's skyline.

"I wanted to. I almost did. But I had a lot of stuff going on," he says earnestly, striving to make her understand.

"It's okay, Derek. The excuses wear thin after a certain number of years," she sighs.

"No, I really did. Meredith threw my cell phone at the wall of the trailer when I broke up with her," he explained.

"You broke up wi – you could have gotten a new phone," she says, changing her wording and tone mid-sentence.

"You could have called me," he argues amiably.

"You were the one who was engaged. I refuse to be the other woman."

He ponders this for a minute, nodding in what she assumes is agreement, and then skims his hand over the creamy skin of her lower back as revealed by the dip in her dress. "Dance with me," he whispers against her neck.

"I have an early flight," she says, reluctance coloring her tone.

"Dance with me, Addie." This time she offers no resistance and he sweeps her onto the floor, whirling them through years of memories until they arrive at the cusp of a second summer.

"I didn't call because I wanted to be a free man when I saw you again," Derek explains. "You don't deserve any more of my indecisiveness."

"Really? That's why?" she asks. He is unable to cipher the essence of her tone.

"I wanted to do it right, for once. And I needed a little time just to be by myself."

Suddenly she laughs, and the sound tinkling out over the calm water and brightening everything it touches. "Well, I was going to call you an idiot, but I suppose I can't really fault you for that," she admits reluctantly as they weave their way through the revolving couples.

"I have good intentions occasionally," Derek says with a devilish smirk. "But a man with all good intentions couldn't do this right now." He fuses their lips and she tastes so sinfully wonderful he is sure he will burn in hell for feeling as good as he does. It starts out gentle, with caressing hands and exploring tongues but soon the passion is nearly tangible and they wordlessly agree that they must take this breathless amour somewhere far from the dance floor. He is the triumphant Summer King with his consort and he had planned on twirling just about for the rest of forever, everlasting in their love. But even immortals tire eventually, and Derek and Addison bow clandestinely out, fingers interlaced, and allow others to take center stage.

He takes her hand and leads her down the lighted boardwalk and into the lush green grass of the park that is just out of sight of the reception, they shed shoes and hairpins as they go. Derek's lips move quickly into the phone he hadn't called Addison with, canceling her early morning flight. He flings the phone down by his discarded jacket and her stilettos and takes her into his arms once again.

They have a lot to figure out, but the most marvelous thing about summer is that you have all the time in the world.

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**So, what did you think? I kinda just threw it together last night, since once I started writing I couldn't stop. I should have probably finished all my other stories and one-shots I started before this. Oh well. Anyway. That button down there is winking at you ;)**

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